


Burn For Me

by Anna_AI_v1



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Cussing, Damsel in Distress, F/F, Fire, Kidnapping, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24493237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_AI_v1/pseuds/Anna_AI_v1
Summary: “You need to feed, Morgan.”On one hand, Morgan really really wanted to. The woman had been strutting around smelling absolutely divine for months, so of course she had considered it before. Some nights she might have even imagined it, along with the sounds and expressions the impassive Detective would make. Hell, had they been in a bedroom (or bathroom, or kitchen, or anywhere else, really, that wasn’t on fire), she would have sucked on the woman before her in more ways than one. But since she was a nearly dead, weakened vampire…“No.”
Relationships: Female Detective/Morgan (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 66





	Burn For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is set after Book Two, though I tried to make it as spoiler-free as I could. Something to note - this follows the stoic female Detective + Morgan route, where the Detective doesn’t give in to the suggestions. Wanted to make our Detective the savior instead of a damsel for once. :D Thank you for reading!

The dusty wooden floors groaned without provocation, while wind howled behind boarded windows. A shed? Very likely. Creaking in the middle of the room was a single broken bulb. And underneath? A woman sat, her legs and arm wrapped in heavy chains, tied to a steel chair. Were she to look up, the broken ceiling would greet her eyes and expose twilight slowly darkening into inky black. The stale air smelled like mold, hay and rodents. Oh, and gasoline. 

“The fuck’s going on here?” Morgan slurred, the DMB in her system coagulating blood and draining her energy. 

Even her thoughts were as sluggish as her body, making her work to recall the last thing she could remember.

A patrol. A gaggle of Trapper thugs attacking a prepubescent harpy. Morgan wasting a freshly lit cigarette to knock them out. Pain in her side. Shouting. And then… Nothing.

Growling in indignation -  _ getting nabbed by Trappers, really? -  _ the vampire strained against her restraints, cursing the sensitivity of her flesh, when the magically altered chains sent a frosty shock-wave. The Agency was certainly slipping, if even the fucking humans were getting their hands on the DMB and enhanced restraints. Speaking of the Agency, since it was twilight already, Morgan suspected that her captors had kept her unconscious for at least twelve hours - no doubt her team had already noticed her absence. Mobilizing and tracking took time, but they were most likely on their way. That being said, she wasn’t going to just sit there and wait for them. 

Her struggles eased - weakened from the toxin and disoriented from pain and cold, Morgan couldn’t do much against the binding, so she sagged forward and listened instead. There. An excited heartbeat just opposite of her, on the other side of the door. 

“Hey, trash, too scared to show your face?” Shaking the messy brown curls out of her eyes, she prepared the perfected  _ Fuck-you  _ glare. 

If she could just get the bastard close enough and use her pheromones, then the rest of Unit Bravo would never have to know about the entire fiasco. The last thing she needed was the Detective hearing that a group of humans could best a vampire - she’d start getting ideas no doubt. And then there would be a lecture about patrolling alone. Ugh. No thanks. 

A key clicked into the lock and slowly the doors opened to reveal a young looking man, a farmer, judging by the tanned skin, dirty overalls and athletic build. A fucking child, frankly, which grated on Morgan’s nerves even more. No way was she clobbered by this dimwit alone. 

So where were the rest of them?

The boy approached her with the cockiness of youthful immortality, the canister in his hand dribbling all the way. 

_ Closer, that’s right, you fucking moron, closer.  _

As soon as he was within reach, the vampire concentrated to melt his brain with pheromones. But no matter how far she reached into herself, it just didn’t work. 

Taking in the vampire’s surprise, the boy smirked and threw the remaining gasoline at her, almost drenching the woman in the foul substance even as she ground her teeth in agitation. Luckily, his aim was shit and barely her left side was splashed. That didn’t stop him from feeling arrogant, though. 

“How does it feel, leech, to be the prey for once?”

Oh how she would have liked to teach this snot-eating fanatic a lesson. Overpowered by the smell, Morgan spat out a long string of threats in multiple languages and tried to rip herself out of the chains. The youth took a cautious step back, letting the canister fall to the floor and rubbing his dirty hands against the side of his legs. It didn’t seem to bother him that he was just as thoroughly doused as her. In the barely-there illumination, he glanced back towards the door, and Morgan followed the panicked look to an older couple, who were watching from the sidelines with disapproving frowns. While startled not to have heard their heartbeats - just how much DMB had they pumped into her exactly? - she took it in stride and fixed the boy with a bored expression.

“This your first time, kid? Wanna look good in front of mommy and daddy, eh?” It wasn’t uncommon for Trappers to raise their kids following the same prejudices and rules.

“Shut up, bitch,” The boy howled, beet red from embarrassment, while daddy dearest shook his head at the outrage. “I’m going to burn you alive! You’ll regret the day you rose from your grave!” His voice cracked - still not finished maturing, most likely - and Morgan didn’t hide the snort at the stupidity of that statement. 

Propelled by childish rage, he stepped forward, seemingly ready to begin a zealous rant, but a sharp order from the doorway froze him to the spot. “Matthew, get back out here and finish this. How many times have we told you not to speak to those things?” The disgust on the woman’s voice matched the intensity of Morgan’s sneer. 

“What a wholesome family activity, burning people alive,” The vampire mused, but the boy obediently returned to the door, not taunted by her scathing tone. 

“Pray for forgiveness, creature,” The man spoke, while mommy walked Matthew away. “And may the flames deeply cleanse your murderous soul.”

Rolling her eyes, Morgan delivered one final glare and listened to the door close. The lock didn’t click. If only these chains hadn’t been magical… 

Once the footsteps had faded away, she began the excruciating ordeal of slipping out of the restraints. With the DMB in her system, both her senses and physical strength were too shaky to rip them clean off, but gasoline soaking her left arm made wiggling out of them easier. Possibly. She intended to find out. Gripping her left thumb, she promptly snapped her hand, dislocating the finger and trying to pull her hand out. When that didn’t work, she set to breaking her wrist bones.

It was bound to be a long, painful and grueling process, but before she could even start, the Trappers set the shed on fire. 

  
  


There was nothing proud about the way panic set in, once the flames started eating the walls and filling the room with smoke. Having faced death at least once every two or three months, Morgan was not prone to hysteria. She left that to stupid people. Panic solved nothing and had a tendency to cause even more trouble. That being said, poisoned, chained and alone the woman stared at one of the most destructive elements of nature with dread. There was no way out, for no matter how many bones she broke, the gasoline drenched planks and hay burned too fast for her to get away. Her mind flashed to the team. Farah would be devastated, undoubtedly, but Adam was bound to take her death the hardest - he had always felt responsible for them and losing a member of the team… At least Nate would be there.

And  _ her.  _ Though the Detective rarely showed affection, there was no doubt in her mind that she cared. Too bad they hadn’t gotten to do anything fun (her fault, not Morgan’s - the woman was a block of ice), but Morgan still suspected that her death was going to damage her. 

She didn't want to die though.

“Screw that,” The vampire hissed, cracking her hand with renewed vigor. “There’s no way I’m letting those fuckers fry me.”

Another crack sounded, this one far louder than the rest, and one of the boarded windows exploded inwards, flames immediately following suit. A bundle of black cloth burst through it, landing in a painful heap on the embers that had fallen from the roof, and groaning. 

Morgan could not believe her eyes. 

“...Detective?”

Slowly getting to her feet, the woman in question cocked a shotgun and shook off the smoldering hay as if it didn’t bother her one bit. Morgan had never seen the detective dressed in dark tactical gear before, and a newfound appreciation for Agency’s attire twisted her lips in a smirk, despite the circumstances. The material was thick, but elastic, moulding to match every dip and curve that the human had strenuously cultivated during her training sessions with Adam. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and - the Detective was going to be so pissed once she realized - singed at the ends. Seeing as she had to have fought her way through whatever group of Trappers Morgan had been kidnapped by, unsurprisingly, there were knife wounds, bruises and somewhat concerning deep grazes marring her sweat and soot covered skin. 

All in all, the Detective looked hot.

“Is it just me, or has it suddenly gotten hot in here?” The vampire grinned, one eyebrow cocked in a provocative fashion.

Much like any other time Morgan had tried to fluster her, the human simply shook her head and crouched beside the chair to look at the chains. “I take it you can’t break them?”

Distracted by the scent of her blood, Morgan took a couple of seconds to form a coherent reply, and if her voice was husky, then so what? 

“I would’ve if I could’ve, sweetheart,” Nodding towards her mutilated left hand she explained the DMB, the enhanced restraints and waited, while the Detective conversed with Adam through the comm. 

While her knight in sooty armor spoke, Morgan listened to the commotion outside. The three Trappers she had seen were most definitely not the only ones here, judging by the sound of gunfire, explosions and screaming that indicated a proper fight between the Agency and the lunatics. Unfortunately, the fire was spreading at an alarming rate, giving them minutes at best. Morgan flexed her fingers one more time, pulled, and sighed. No vampire could brave the flames - hence the Detective jumping through the window to get to her - and the human wouldn’t be able to free her. Help might have arrived, but it was most likely too late. 

The door was kicked in once again just as Adam screamed something through the comm, and a shotgun blast kicked Morgan backwards, making the entire chair tip towards the ground. The Detective was faster, though - jumping up, slamming her leg on the chair between Morgan’s legs, crashing it into an upright position, and shooting right back at the kid. 

Wheezing from he pain - most of her shoulder was gone, for fuck’s sake - through the corner of her eye the vampire saw Matthew crumble to the ground with a hole in his gut. Nonetheless, most of her attention was on the woman posed before her, eyes bright with fury and lips twisted in a sneer. It was hot enough that sweat was dripping from the Detective, plastering loose hairs to her face and reflecting the bright orange flames closing in all around them. 

Throughout the entire time that Morgan had known the woman, she had never seen her anything but prim and proper. Always dressed like a hot-shot CEO, with a mild polite smile and calm voice, the Detective couldn’t be rattled. Nothing ever seemed to touch her deep enough to shatter the stoic mask she wore - not Murphy, not the creepy carnival people, not her dirtiest and most provocative suggestions. 

Seeing the Detective dirty, sweaty and furious? I did things to the vampire. It made her want to do things to the human in return. 

Sadly, that did not change the situation. 

“You’ve got to go,” Morgan hissed, embarrassed by the weakness in her voice. “There’s not much you can do.”

Those bright narrowed eyes turned from the dead human and back to Morgan, sending a delicious heat straight to her core. Which was ridiculous considering that they were about to burn alive, but somehow the Detective was still the hottest thing in the room. And, perhaps (not that the vampire would ever admit that), it wasn’t just physical. 

“You’re not healing,” The Detective stated, calmly, and placed a bloodied forearm to the vampire’s lips. 

Hissing at the scent of blood and sweat, Morgan tried turning away, nearly crashing her entire chair back again, but the Detective followed.

“You need to feed, Morgan,” Still so calm, despite one of the beams collapsing right behind her. “We both know I can’t remove the chains and we need to move fast.”

On one hand, Morgan really  _ really  _ wanted to. The woman had been strutting around smelling absolutely  _ divine  _ for months, so of course she had considered it before. Some nights she might have even imagined it, along with the sounds and expressions the impassive Detective would make. Hell, had they been in a bedroom (or bathroom, or kitchen, or anywhere else, really, that wasn’t on fire), she would have sucked on the woman before her in more ways than one. But since she was a nearly dead, weakened vampire…

“No.”

Seeing Morgan struggling against her, the Detective’s voice lost some of it’s calm. “Make no mistake that if you don’t feed, I’ll burn with you.” 

Throat convulsing with desire and hunger Morgan spat a curse and stared into the woman. “The arm will be too little.”

She didn’t need to elaborate. Sliding even closer, the Detective sat on her lap and placed the smooth column of her throat against Morgan’s lips. Sucking on the flesh to bring the vein closer to the surface, she revelled in the increased pulse fluttering against her tongue, the flush spreading through the skin. Common sense losing to bloodlust, fangs pierced the heated skin, the Detective hissing with pleasure, while her free hand dug into Morgan’s flesh. 

How many times had she imagined taking the stoic woman apart? Tasting her flesh languidly, hearing her whimper and beg, when she wouldn’t even blush at the dirtiest suggestions? Fuck but this was better than anything she had ever fabricated in a lust induced haze. And the blood.  _ Fuck.  _ Groaning Morgan readjusted her grip, bit even deeper and gorged on what could only be described as ambrosia - the texture of hot chocolate and the spicy, delectable taste were one thing, but the  _ power  _ it came with? Exquisite. 

“Morgan...” Her voice was slurred, body nearly limp, when she tugged at the brunette. “We need to go.”

It took a lot to rip her lips away from the flesh, but once the Detective slid away, swaying slightly on her feet, Morgan tore away from the chair. Most of the shed was falling apart, so a good swing with the chair sent the wall tumbling down. The entire thing was coming down and the surrounding area was also on fire, so the two women ran out into the night, ignoring the burns and dodging falling debris as fast as they could. 

It wasn’t until they reached the Agency’s vans, nearly full of Trappers in cuffs, that Morgan - still high on the blood and adrenaline - turned around and kissed the Detective with bruising force. Having spent weeks wanting to do just that, she pointedly ignored the rest of Unit Bravo, including Rebecca, not far from them. It started as a heated thank-you, but quickly morphed into something deeper, more heartfelt that the vampire would normally be comfortable with. Then again, she just nearly died. Fuck comfortable. She needed this. So when the Detective responded in kind, tasting her own blood on Morgan's lips, clawing at her hair and back, Morgan didn’t dwell on the complicated emotions bubbling just underneath the surface. 

Panting, the two parted to stunned silence. 

“Huh,” Farah observed, her grip on an unconscious human slightly lax in shock. “Guess you did finally wear the Detective down.”

Eyes never leaving the disheveled human, Morgan smirked. All the jabs and tauts she was doubtlessly going to receive for getting captured by the humans were totally worth it. 

- - - - -

“I could help you change the bandages, sweetheart,” Leaning against the doorway, Morgan tried to gauge the human’s mood. 

A week after the fry-a-vamp festival, she was still trying to prod at the shields that the Detective had rebuilt as soon as she changed into clean clothes. Despite Adams' warnings to not push the issue and Nate’s insinuation that this was more than lust and fun, Morgan sought to the Detective. It wasn’t because the woman was a reprieve for her overstimulated senses, nor was it that she loved how every hidden smile made her eyes glimmer. Morgan didn’t find the human’s disgust for sweetened coffee adorable, her desire to improve commendable, and fury marvelous. No, she wanted some simple hot uncomplicated sex with Wayhaven’s Ice Queen. That was all. 

Truly. 

“I’m fine, thank you, Morgan,” The usual polite smile, formal tone and perfectly straight posture. Ugh. “How are your injuries?”

“Fine.” She didn’t know why this bothered her so much. It’s not like she expected the Detective to jump her… Still, she wanted something. And it pissed her off to no end. “Never mind, I’ll just go.” Turning to leave, Morgan stepped away from the bedroom Nate had set to match Detective’s tastes, confused by the disappointment churning in her gut. 

Three steps in, however, she growled and flashed back into the room, slamming the door closed. 

“You know what, no, Detective.” The vampire prowled towards the coach, where the human was working on her computer. “There’s something we need to clarify.”

“Oh?” Clever, putting the laptop away. “And what is that?”

The nonchalant tone was one thing, but the heat in her eyes made Morgan pause. Was she playing with her? With a frown Morgan considered that option, but ended up shaking her head. For some reason, she just didn’t care. 

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” Not what she had intended to say, but leaning over the delectable human had that effect on her. “Your exquisite scent,” Shivering at the memory, her voice grew rough. “Your fucking  _ taste. _ ” Fingers lazily dragging up her thigh, Morgan leaned close to those politely twisted lips. “Your searing touch.” The memory of their bodies meshed together, fangs buried deep nearly broke her control. “You’re burning me, sweetheart. Every day a little more.”

“And what, exactly,” The vixen had the gall to pull her lower lip between her teeth in a deliberate manner. “...do you want me to do about that?” Still so calm, so collected, while Morgan was fucking  _ starving  _ here. 

“I want you to fucking burn with me.” Growling the vampire latched onto her lips, pulling out every trick in the book to persuade the woman into shredding her clothing. 

The Detective didn’t yield immediately, taking her time to kiss back languidly, her fingers smoothly sliding underneath Morgan’s shirt and massaging the flesh. But once fangs brushed against her pulse, a hand deliberately tugged her hair, the woman arched into Morgan’s touch, her own lips turning hungry.

Maybe there was more to this than simple heat, for no one had affected the vampire quite like the Detective did, despite her Ice Queen exterior, but why did it matter, when burning alive was suddenly such a wonderful way to go?


End file.
